Out of the Primitive Part 20

Genevieve gazed up at him with startled eyes. "Lord James, you must explain that; you must be explicit."

"I--I did not intend to so much as mention it," stammered the young Englishman, bitterly chagrined at himself. "It was only--pray, do not ask me, Miss Leslie!"

"You referred, of course, to his drinking," said Genevieve, in a tone as tense as it was quiet. "Do not reproach yourself. When we were cast ash.o.r.e together, he was--not himself. But when I remember all those weeks that followed--! You cannot imagine how brave and resolute, how truly courageous he was!--and under that outward roughness, how kind and gentle!"

"I too know him. That's what makes it so hard. The thought that I may possibly cause him a disappointment that may result in--" Lord James came to a stop, tugging at his mustache.

Genevieve was again staring at the slender little hands, from which the most expert manicuring had not yet entirely removed all traces of rough usage.

"He told me something of--of what he had to fight," she murmured in a troubled voice. "But I feel that--that if something came into his life--" She blushed, but went on bravely--"something to take him out of what he calls the grind--"

Lord James had instantly averted his gaze from her crimsoning face.

"That's the worst of it!" he burst out. "If only I could feel sure that he--I've seen him fight--Gad! how he has fought--time and again. Yet sooner or later, always the inevitable defeat!"

"I cannot believe it! I cannot!" insisted Genevieve. "With his strength, his courage! It's only been the circ.u.mstances; that he has had n.o.body to--I--I beg your pardon! Of course you--What I mean is somebody who--" She buried her face in her hands, blushing more vividly than before.

The Englishman's face lightened. "Then you've not let my deplorable blunder alter your att.i.tude towards him?"

"Not in the slightest."

He leaned forward. "Then--I can wait no longer! You must know how greatly I--All those days coming up to Aden I could say nothing. Before coming aboard, he had told me why he could not permit you to--to commit yourself irrevocably."

He paused. Genevieve bent over lower. She did not speak.

He went on steadily: "It was then I realized fully his innate fineness.

I own it astonished me, well as I thought I knew him. With his brains, his 'grit,' and _that_, I'd say he could become anything he wished--were it not for his--for the one weakness."

Genevieve flung up her head, to gaze at him in indignant protest.

"Weakness! How can you say that? He is so strong--so strong!"

"In all else than that," insisted Lord James. "You must face the hard fact. Gad! this is far worse than I thought it would be. But I knew you before he did, and I've played fair with him. It was not easy to say nothing those days before we reached Aden, or to stay away from you after I reached home. Even he could not have found it so hard. He has all that stubborn power of endurance; while I--"

"You have no cause to reproach yourself. I cannot say how greatly it pleased me that you took him to Ruthby Castle."

"Could you but have been there, too! He and the pater hit it off out of hand. Jolly sensible chap, the pater--quiet, bookish--long head."

"He must be!"

"Not strange about Tom, though. It's odd how his bigness makes itself felt--to those who've any sense of judgment. And yet it's not so odd, when you come to think. My word! if only it were not for his--Forgive me, Miss Genevieve! I've the right to consider what it might mean to you. It gives me the right to speak for myself. He himself insisted that, in justice to you, I should not withdraw."

"Lord James!"

"Pray, do not misunderstand, Miss Genevieve. He knew what it meant to me. But our first thought was for you. He wished you to have the full contrast of your own proper environment, that you might regain your perspective--the point of view natural to one of your position."

"He could think I'd go back to the shams and conventions, after those weeks of _real_ life!"

"Sometimes life is a bit too real in the most conventional of surroundings," said his lordship, with a rueful smile. "No. He saw that you had no right to commit yourself then; that you should reconsider matters in the environment in which you belong and for which he is not now fitted--whatever may be the outcome of his efforts to make himself fit."

"He will succeed!"

"He may succeed. I should not have the slightest hesitancy in saying that success would be certain, were it not for that one flaw. It's not to be held against him--an inherited weakness."

"Do you not believe we can overcome heredity?"

"In some cases, I daresay. But with him--You must bear in mind I've seen the futility of his struggle. All his resolution and courage and endurance seem to count for nothing. But it's too painful! Can't we leave him out of this? You are aware that I missed my opportunity when Lady Bayrose changed her plans and rushed you off on the other ship.

After that you may imagine how difficult I found it to say nothing, do nothing, coming up to Aden."

"Please, please say no more!" begged Genevieve, her eyes bright with tears of distress. "I regard you too highly. You have my utmost esteem, my respect and friendship, my--you see he has taught me to be sincere--you have my affection. Dear friend, I shall be perfectly candid. I was a silly girl. I had never sensed the realities of life. I had a young girl's covetousness of a coronet--of a t.i.tle. Yet that was not all. I felt a warm regard for you. Had you spoken before I met him, before I learned to know him--"

"Before you knew him? Then you still--? The contrast of civilization--of your own environment--has made no difference?"

"I do not say that. Yet it is not in the manner you suppose." She looked away, with a piteous attempt to smile. "It's strange how much pain can be caused by the slightest shadow of a doubt."

"Miss Genevieve! I--I shall never be able to forgive myself! For me to have said a word--it was despicable!"

"No, do not say it. Can you think me capable of misunderstanding? Dear friend, I esteem you all the more for what I know it must have cost you. But no; what I spoke of was something that was already in my own mind."

"Ah--then you, too--Miss Genevieve, it's been so good of you. Let me beg that you do not consider this as final."

"But I can promise you nothing. It would not be right to you."

"I ask only that you do not consider this final. You have admitted a shadow of a doubt. With your permission, I propose to wait until you have solved that doubt. You have given me cause to hope that, were it not for him--"

"It is not right for me to give you the slightest hope."

"But I take it. Meantime, no more annoyance to you. We'll be jolly good friends, no more. You take me?"

"I'll ring for tea. You deserve it."

"No objections, I a.s.sure you. I'll serve as stopgap till Tom turns up."

Genevieve rose quickly, her color deepening. "He is coming?--this afternoon!"

"I should not have been surprised had I found him here. And now--" He glanced at his watch. "It's already half after four."

"Oh, and papa said he'd be home early to-day!--though his custom is to come barely in time to dress for dinner."

"Hope Tom hit it off with him this morning--but--" Lord James shook his head dubiously--"I fear he was not in a conciliatory mood."

CHAPTER XI

REBELLION